


Okay, and more than okay for a while

by orphan_account



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Depression, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M, One Shot, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 18:51:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16225175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Dan deals with depression, but he's not alone. Phil is there every step of the way.





	Okay, and more than okay for a while

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Phandom, 
> 
> Well, this is my first step into this fandom. Forgive me for any kind of mistakes, I'm sort of a new fan, and I also didn't proofread this, because I'm so eager to get it out. The song title is from Aurora - Infections of a Different Kind, which I'd definitely recommend. 
> 
> You'll see this fic is a bit scattered and I guess you can interpret that as sort of a reflection on depression and the way it scatters you. I wrote this with my own experience with depression in mind. I hope I tagged everything properly, but in case I missed out on anything, let me know! 
> 
> (At some point I make sort of a reference to fanfiction. This is meant to be a kind of meta joke in text, mostly calling myself out. I am not against RPF, there's a lot of great stuff out there.)

It started that day in university, when his pend up anger and frustrating and stress and _everything_ , came to an explosion booming in his ears as he smashed the books on the ground.

“I don’t want to do this anymore!”

“Dan?”

Oh yes, they spend time together like this, studying, hanging out. Even if it started out kind of strange (Dan was, in his heart, still a Phil fanboy), he got used to Phil’s eternal presence.

“What is it?”

Dan shook his head. “I don’t want to _do_ this anymore! I hate law, and…” He groaned and gestured to his books. “Is _this_ what I’m going to have to do for the rest of my life?”

“You don’t…”

“Oh god,” His eyes shot up to Phil. “It’s too late to change now. I’m going to be stuck doing this for the rest of my life. I can’t _do_ this for the rest of my life!”

That’s how the first of what he’d later call the existential crises started. He’d later tell people his gap year was to figure out what he wanted in life, he’d tell Phil that he was pondering the meaning of the universe, but in reality he mostly stared at the ceiling. He knew every detail of that ceiling, wondered why no one ever looked up, wondered who he was and what he was going to do, but most of all, he didn’t care about any of that. How anyone could panic and not care at the same time? He didn’t know but he _felt_ it.

YouTube was the way out. Quite literally in a way, because Phil dragging him out of the apartment for conventions was the only time he was outside. And he was having fun, genuinely, he was, but at home the ceiling and the crisis waited.

But he was not alone.

Sometimes black turned into grey with a blanket or an offering of chocolate, of take-out and a smile. Dan’s head was a lonely place, but although Phil couldn’t understand, he was there still, and Dan was grateful, too far gone to say so, but he was.

 

* * *

 

He never really thought he could be a YouTuber. That wasn’t exactly in the books of the counselors and the stands of the career events. He knew people were doing that, but he was still looking for something else. Something socially acceptable maybe. Then on came the radio.

So BBC1 suddenly wanted to make a show. With them. Wow.

Okay, there were a lot more curse words going through his head in that moment, but it was the _radio._ And the radio was a real job. Radio host was something real people did, right? Real adult people. Was he now a real adult people?

They were becoming a duo, Dan and Phil.

_Why not Phil and Dan?_

Dan and Phil did sound better, he teasingly told Phil.

Dan didn’t really mind being one of two. It was scary, and having his best friend by his side was such a relief. Because that was what they had become. How could they not? Dan wondered if anyone could live together with Phil Lester and not become his best friend instantly. Or want to be. Phil not only loved everyone with that sort of genuineness that kept surprising him. He was happy, so eager to smile with not just his mouth but with his eyes too, so eager to invite people into his world. Dan’s world, Phil’s world… It was beginning to feel like _their_ world now, and it felt strangely natural.

That didn’t keep the crises at bay. He started to realize that it was the one thing he thought it’d never be. Or no, it was his old buddy denial. Depression? Depression was for people aesthetically crying in a sad French movie, not for people who threw their books and did cringey things and procrastinated making YouTube videos. He was just a lazy piece of shit, he knew it deep down. His therapist disagreed.

“That’s the depression talking, Dan.”

“How do I know it’s not right though?”

He laughed awkwardly. Are depressed people supposed to even laugh?

She shook her head. “You have to learn to be nicer to yourself. Would you talk to your friends like that?”

“I don’t really have friends.”

“And what about Phil? Your housemate?”

Dan laughed again. “Housemate sounded so weird.”

“I don’t know,” he said. “He’s not just a friend.”

“Then what is he?”

Dan shook his head. “I don’t know.”

A long silence fell.

“Can you talk to him?”

 “I can.”

 

* * *

 

“Depression?”

Dan didn’t look at Phil, but instead studied the wallpaper. He didn’t dare look him into the eyes, afraid he’d either start laughing or crying, and he wouldn’t know what was worse.

“Yeah.”

He didn’t talk about that part about Phil, but when Phil pulled him closer and he didn’t protest, it came back to him. _Not now_ , he told his thoughts, and for the first time in far too long they listened to him.

Laying down his head on his shoulder was the scariest and the safest thing he had ever done. The touch of his warm skin through his shirt, and he reminded himself that this was a friendly gesture. This was what friends did. Friends that supported each other, cared for each other.

He closed his eyes.

_Loved each other._

 

* * *

 

Dan never paid much attention to the shipping. It’d been a bit weird at first, but he had made peace with it, and to a degree it was pretty funny actually. Fans assumed they got into all kinds of crazy _adventures_ while they were usually just on the couch playing video games. And days like these… well, no one would want to write fanfiction about that. Days where all he did was refresh tumblr or binge another mediocre anime series while the voice in his head yelled at him to make a video. Still, he wasn’t gonna get off his lazy ass soon, no matter how bored he was.

“Dan?”

Still not gonna get off his ass.

“Yes?” he yelled through his room door.

“You wanna come to the shops?”

“No.”

Phil knocked. “Can I come in?”

It was a mess around here, and Dan was the biggest of all messes, but it was nothing Phil hadn’t seen before. One day he spend all day breaking down in the hall and Phil had to step over him a couple of times.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, “whatever.”

“What are you doing?”

He didn’t even bother to close the bad anime tab. “Video ideas.”

“How’s that going?”

Dan buried himself further into his blanket. “What do you think?”

“Come on, Dan, you need to go out.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No,” he said. “Don’t want to.”

“The doctor said you have to.”

“Don’t care.”

“Come on.”

Dan had no idea how Phil located his hands in the blanket pile he had become, but he effectively pulled him away from it. About five different blankets fell away and Dan gasped, pretending to be offended.

“Now I’m _cold._ Thanks, Phil.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re coming to the shops.”

Dan groaned but nodded. “Fine. But I’ll blame you if I’m cold.”

“You can have my scarf.”

_Oh shut up, Phil. Don’t be so nice to me._

“Fine.”

 

* * *

 

Healing from depression meant a lot of just outright shitty things, like _exercise_ and _healthy eating._ He wasn’t a fan. On good days he did what he was told, went outside, did his exercises. On bad days he ate crisps in front of his laptop and watched the crumps disappear into the keyboard.

Depression, he learned, made it hard to acknowledge his own feelings, so when Phil asked him how he was, he answered honestly.

“I don’t know.”

He was far past the point of asking how he could not know. He just didn’t know. Phil accepted that. Phil accepted him as he was, without judgement or question. Phil accepted him as no other ever had. Even his family and other friends talked to him in that tone of voice. _That_ tone that indicated they were worried, or that they had _the_ solution (please don’t be yoga again. Or going vegan. A week was enough).

“You’re done with the video?”

Dan nodded.

“How does it feel?”

“Scary. A bit like coming out.” _But how would I know?_

“Coming out of the depression closet,” Phil said. “That’s brave.”

Dan laughed and sat down on the couch next to Phil. “The fans will be so disappointed.”

Phil laughed at first, but his smile faded away and his eyes fixed on him.

“It’s brave, Dan.”

He sighed. “I don’t know. What will they say?”

“They’ll think the same thing.”

“What if they don’t?”

Phil was silent for a second and then placed a hand on his arm. It felt like such a strangely intimate gesture, even for people who’d been so close for so long. They’d shared a tour bus for weeks and still, touch. Touch surprised him.

“Then I still think it’s brave. I’ll always think that, Dan.”

Dan couldn’t help but swallow heavily. _Don’t you dare cry now, Daniel Howell,_ he told himself.

“Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

“I saw.”

Dan nodded. “I did it. My coming out.”

Phil’s smile wasn’t very convincing this time. Dan knew he was trying to comfort him, but it wasn’t helping much. He sat down on the couch next to him and got his blanket, wishing it was a black hole instead so he could disappear into it.

“Have you read any comments yet?”

He shook his head. “Scary.”

“I know.”

Dan leaned into Phil and Phil put his arm around him, as they did. As had begun to feel safe and familiar, as… well, it just _was._

Depression sometimes makes it hard to recognize your feelings.

 

* * *

 

It hit him on a YouTube binge. See, watching YouTube videos was much easier than _making_ YouTube videos. And he hadn’t gotten over the reactions from the last video. It was good, but intensive. So fucking intensive.

In the middle of whatever-the-fuck he was doing (sometimes the days seemed to last forever and still in the evening he couldn’t remember what he was doing) he realized.

_I’m in love with my best friend._

His eyes grew wide and he threw off a blanket. Where did that thought even come from? That didn’t even make _sense._ He wasn’t in love with Phil, that’s not –

 _You have no proof,_ he wanted to yell at his brain. This was bullshit. This was ridiculous.

He paced through his room silently screaming, wanting to find something, anything to disprove this theory his stupid brain came up with, but _this,_ this was the one feeling coming through the brain fog. The one –

The one truth. He was in love with Phil.

Because he knows the colour of his eyes by heart and the feel of his skin and he stares at his silhouette sometimes, and he didn’t fall in _friendship_ with him, no, he fell in love lifetimes ago. How could he miss it? How could he miss looking at him being the only thing that put a smile on his face? How did he miss the racing of his heart and the emptiness inside of him when he’s without him? How did he miss falling in love?

“Dan?”

Dan’s heart stopped. He couldn’t answer now. What was he supposed to say?

_Hi Phil, good to see you, what’s up? Are you hungry? Oh, and by the way, I’m in love with you._

“Dan? What’s up?”

He shook his head in silence. He couldn’t, not right now. Please not right now.

“Dan, are you okay?”

Dan took a deep breath. “Yeah.”

“Do you want to order pizza?”

 _Breathe, Dan._ “Yeah. Be out in a sec.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

“Pizza?”

“Yeah.”

 

* * *

 

Touring was fun, of course. There were adoring crowds, seeing the world, sort-of-fancy hotel rooms, and oh, there was Phil. There was no escaping from Phil on tour. Everything was different out there, but he was the same. He was his happy smiley self, and on bad days that’s the eternal comfort.

But now he was tired. Adrenaline had to run out some time.

“I’m dead.” Dan fell down on his bed, ready to completely pass out. “RIP me.”

“Don’t die, Dan.”

“Too late.” He sighs and yawns. “I’m dead.”

Phil falls down next to him, on the same bed, and for a second Dan’s heart stands still. Will it ever stop doing that? Phil is not into him that way. That’s okay. That’s definitely okay. Yes. No problem.

“Hi dead, I’m Phil.”

“Dad jokes, really?”

“Dad jokes,” he replies, “or _death_ jokes?”

“Please let me die again.”

Phil playfully pushed his shoulder. “I know you love me.”

 _Oh._ His heart stood still for so long and his stomach felt like it was doing cartwheels. Can you die of that? Probably.

“Yes.” Dan could feel the blood flowing towards his face, and he laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, I love you.”

_Oh fuck. He said it, he said it, he said The Thing._

Phil sat up and stared into his eyes, smiling.

“So you love me?”

His face heated up hotter than ever before. “Fuck you.”

“You – you mean it, Dan?”

“What?”

“I’m serious. Do you mean it? You love me?”

Dan swallowed and nodded slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I mean it.”

“Do you love me like…”

Phil came closer slowly and closed his eyes, but he lingered, as if waiting for permission to come closer. Dan’s voice was no more than a breath.

“Yes.”

_I love you like that._

 

* * *

 

No love can fix you, Dan knew. But it can help make life just a little brighter.


End file.
